


Pull Together (To Brave The Odds)

by _aph_India_ (bengaltiger7799)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Historical Events, Angst, Anxiety, Because Arthur and Also Other Countries, But Also There Is Some Comfort, But If You're Here For the Friendship Then Brace Yourself, Elements of Magic and Myth, Everyone's Just Trying To Stay Alive And Relatively Unconquered, Familial Relationships, Gen, Historical Hetalia, History Fic, Hurt No Comfort, I'm So Sorry Alfred And Matthew, If You're Here For the Romance I'm Sorry That's Not a Major Focus, Just Know That There is Much Angst and Little Comfort, Me Being a Giant History Nerd, Mental Instability, Non-Centric Plot, Not Canon Compliant, Platonic Relationships, Plot Driven, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sorry For the Wall of Tags, Trying not to give too much away, serious fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24934198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bengaltiger7799/pseuds/_aph_India_
Summary: Dear journal,It’s December 31st, 1989, and things have officially gone to sh*t. The leaders of everywhere must have finally given up and allowed the world to implode on itself, because that’s the only reason I can think of. Grandfather says that we should be grateful that it isn’t worse for us, considering the things that have been happening to people elsewhere, but I don’t think anyone would begrudge me a little bit of bitterness. It’s odd, actually, at the beginning of the year things were going so well.And then everything changed when the nation across the sea attacked.I wonder if anyone’s still alive from a time of peace? Has there even been one in the last century?The way things are going, I don’t think something will miraculously break that trend. Even this entry could probably get me killed or burned or something. No one should be reading this though, so I think I’m safe.It’s almost the 21st century, and I really wish that all of this will be over so we can start afresh in 2000. If I live that long, that is. Isn’t the turn of the century supposed to be auspicious or lucky or something??Hope for a better 1990, I guess.Sincerely,Y. K.
Relationships: America & Canada (Hetalia), America & England (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia), Austria & Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Austria & Germany (Hetalia), Austria & Prussia (Hetalia), Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), Belarus & Estonia & Latvia & Lithuania & Russia & Ukraine (Hetalia), Belarus & Russia & Ukraine (Hetalia), Canada & England (Hetalia), China & Japan & North Korea & South Korea & Taiwan & Hong Kong (Hetalia), China & Japan (Hetalia), England & France (Hetalia), England & Ireland & Northern Ireland & Scotland & Sealand & Wales (Hetalia), England & Ireland (Hetalia), England & Northern Ireland (Hetalia), England & Portugal (Hetalia), England & Scotland (Hetalia), England & Wales (Hetalia), England & his brothers, England/Spain (Hetalia), France & Spain (Hetalia), France/Scotland (Hetalia), Germany & Hungary, Germany & Prussia (Hetalia), Ireland & Northern Ireland (Hetalia), Japan & North Korea & South Korea, Japan & Taiwan (Hetalia), Northern Ireland/Prussia (Hetalia), Portugal & Spain (Hetalia), Russia & Belarus, South Italy & Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 31





	1. Prologue

20 January, 1989

District of Columbia, United States of America

12:00

Tuesday

A blond by the name of Alfred F. Jones fought the urge to fidget as he stood behind the man at the podium, the glare of the bright lights on him unusually apprehensive.

This one was going to be different. He could feel it in his bones. And as he’d learned, different was not always good. 

“Good afternoon to each and every person in the United States of America!” The man’s voice boomed across the area, the crowds falling mostly silent as the famous speech started. 

Alfred didn’t necessarily  _ like _ the man at the podium, but that wasn’t a first - there had been presidents before that he hadn’t liked. Still, something in him recoiled at the thought of  _ this man _ being his leader, even if only for eight years at most. Something about the man set his instincts on high alert, and he hadn’t been very reassured that neither Matthew nor Arthur had liked the guy during the presidential race, either.

Heck, Yao’s gaze had turned disapproving when the man was brought up, and Bharat had said that he ‘sent pangs of foreboding into his very soul’ at the last world meeting. While he didn’t generally listen to the likes of China or India at this time, the fact that they had echoed his own sentiments so closely set every one of his nerves on end.

“You all have trusted me with your country, your safety, and your way of life. I can assure you that I can be trusted with these things! I will not fail you, and I will not fail this glorious country!”

Oh well. Regardless of what Alfred’s personal opinions on the new president were, the people had spoken. He would have to deal with the man for the next four, maybe eight years, because that’s just how it was. After all, Alfred stood for a country of the people. 

As the crowd cheered below them, Alfred found he didn’t quite mind. He was proud of his people, of his legacy. And if putting up with someone he didn’t like was something that was necessary, he’d gladly do it.

“But why just save America, when we can bring the greatness of our country to everyone else?”

_ What? _

“We are faced with a threat, ladies and gentlemen, a threat we must deal with quickly and mercifully! Communism has spread like a plague throughout the world, and we alone have been able to stand up to it! It is our duty, to ourselves, to our forefathers, and to the rest of the world, to use this power we have to wipe out this evil infestation!”

Alfred’s mind scrambled as he tried to catch up with what the man had just said.  _ Wipe out communism? _ It wasn’t a bad idea in and of itself, Alfred thought to himself, but how? Any way that he could think of would require conquering, and replacing, and general chaos-

_ Oh, no. Oh, no no no. God, please no. _

“So we will fight!” The man’s voice rose in a crescendo, the roars of the crowd below only highlighting his passionate speech. “We will fight for freedom! We will fight against hunger, against poverty! We will fight for the people of this world, and show them the glory that is America! We will bring greatness to the world!”

_ This one is going to be different _ , Alfred realised again with growing horror. He felt something, dark and frothing, start to twist in his stomach.

“We will bring justice to the world! We will bring justice and peace, so that all may live happily! Join me, brothers and sisters, in this endeavor! We will fight together, support eachother, and we will save the world!”

With each word, Alfred could feel the buzzing, humming presence of his people’s influence over him. A thousand voices, calling out for justice, retribution, glory. He could feel it as it stared to cloud his thoughts, filling his head with cotton and making it hard to think.

Most of all, he could feel the influence of the man at the podium. Alfred felt his words seeping into his brain, breaking down his defenses, transforming him from the inside out. The part that he could recognise as  _ himself _ , as Alfred F. Jones and not the United States of America, fought back against the influence. It thrashed and kicked, trying to keep the man and his poisonous words out of Alfred’s consciousness, and for a moment Alfred entertained the notion that he might win against them. 

However, it was a losing battle, and the man slowly took root in Alfred’s mind as his last defense fell.

“Today, I promise every true American;  _ we will save the world! _ ”

And Alfred found himself starting to believe it.

_ This one is going to be different. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to what is probably going to become a trainwreck of a quarantine idea. I'll try to post once or twice a month (because my schedule is really hectic, I'm sorry - school and a medical internship take up most of my time) and I hope that you all stick around and enjoy what I have planned!
> 
> This prologue is really short, and I promise that the chapters are definitely going to be fairly decent in length. 
> 
> Any critiques, feedback, or other comments are welcome! Please let me know if you enjoyed the story - or if you didn't, and what I can do better! 
> 
> Please stay safe and healthy, everyone! Ta!
> 
> (On a side note, I will be using British spellings and English is not my first Language, sorry for any mistakes.)


	2. Chapter One- Red Sky at Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the warning comes too late.

1 July, 1989

Ottawa, Dominion of Canada

14:31

Saturday

_It had started quietly_ , Matthew Williams reflected as he sat in a (very empty) meeting room waiting for the American president and his own prime minister. 

It had started quietly, with his government striking seemingly win-win deals with the American government. Very few had seen anything wrong with open borders and joint governments, even if it meant that his country had to withdraw from the Commonwealth of Nations. Sure, it warranted a few raised eyebrows from both his governments and those in the Commonwealth, but everyone had bigger things to worry about than why America made Canada leave what was basically a glorified trading club. The United States was strong, enough so to scare most of the world into submission (because no one wanted to cross someone that could quickly spell out their demise) so the activities of the country went mostly unquestioned.

There was a new world power in town, eh?

Matthew was worried; he had been growing steadily more concerned since the start of the year, and since the leadership of the United States had fallen into the hands of _that man_ . It was an encompassing, all-pervading feeling of perturbation that grew with every interaction that Matthew had with his twin. Alfred had been _off_ these past few months, right from when that new person - _Mr. Mcwhat’shisface_ \- had taken office as the President of the United States. He was constantly saying things like ‘just you watch, Matt, we’re going to rid the world of any evil that comes against us!’ and ‘Communism is an evil virus that should be purged. It and everyone who believes in it. They’re all useless!’

This wasn’t the Alfred he knew. His twin brother believed that everyone deserved saving, that everyone could be saved. No one was useless in his book, and although he could be a bit insensitive at times, he was generally pretty accepting of lots of different people and ideas. _This_ Alfred was a paranoid, constantly on-edge, close-minded _jerk_ who spent almost all his time preaching about his own ideals, some of them twisted in ways that Matthew didn’t _want_ to recall. 

Matthew wouldn’t waste time lying to himself by saying that it was all in his head, or that it was nothing, because it was _most definitely there and it was most definitely something._ This was far from the first time that Alfred had changed due to his people, and Matthew knew it would be far from the last, but he didn’t really have many options as far as dealing with the problem was concerned. Alfred could be dangerous at times, and the havoc of the Red Scare not fifty years ago still weighed heavily on his soul.

Even the _thought_ of what had occurred then still sent shudders down the blond’s spine, and he was not eager to repeat his experiences.

A small creature flitted in and out of the window at the edge of his vision, but it went ignored- just as all the other ‘legends’ from the Eskasoni people had over the years; Matthew found that it was easier to live among mythical creatures if he didn’t acknowledge their presence. The Canadian noted that there were remarkable similarities between his self-imposed obliviousness towards the mythicals and his current attitude towards his brother. Both had the same moral- ignorance leads to an easier life. 

The blond glanced at his watch, forcefully wrenching himself from his thoughts, wondering where the other people supposed to be attending the meeting were. His PM had only told him that the American government had a new proposal for them, and Matthew was equally nervous and curious to see what it would be. He sighed, standing up and starting to pace along the length of the room.

He _really_ didn’t like being alone with his thoughts.

He briefly considered stepping out for a pastry from the nearby cafe, before deciding that his best option would be to wait.

_With my luck, the five minutes that I’m gone will be the five minutes that they all show up._

He paced for a few more minutes, the tapping of his dress shoes against the wood floor the only sound in the room. 

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Oh, come on, I should have just gone to the shop! I could be back with a nice, warm, maple-flavoured scone by now!_ The man lamented silently to himself, as his brain took the opportunity to remind him that he’d skipped lunch in favour of being in time for the meeting. As he paced, bemoaning the distinct lack of food he had, Matthew failed to notice the oiled door smoothly swing open behind him. Vibrant blue eyes observed the pacing canadian curiously, making no sound and leaving the room’s silence to be punctuated only by the other’s mutterings. Not wanting to be caught, the intruder spoke just before Matthew turned, making it seem as if he had just entered.

“Heya, Mattie! What’s up?” Alfred said jovially, striding into the room and taking a seat at the long table. Matthew startled, beyond the point of expecting anyone to enter and having been immersed in his wishes for something to eat. He noted that the other’s smile was the familiar, twinkling, ear-to-ear grin, and it seemed today was a good day, because Alfred only usually grinned like that when he was feeling particularly happy.

“You’re late, Fred. Although neither the PM nor your President are here either, so I suppose it’s alright.” He said fondly. These little glimpses of his own Alfred always helped stave off the ever-present concern, and kept him from falling down a rabbit hole of panic as he’d done so many times before. One of the little people buzzed nervously by his ear, and Matthew absently swatted at it. The mythical dodged, its noise only intensifying.

“Oh, about that.” Alfred casually started, and Matthew’s apprehension returned suddenly. His mind whirled, _something_ in Alfred’s unassuming tone setting off his danger instinct and fraying his nerves. It was casual enough on the surface, but carried undercurrents of- of-

_There goes the not-panicking, I guess_.

“What? What is it?” He asked, keeping a lid on his resurging anxiety. He must not have controlled his tone as well as he thought, though, because Alfred looked him over critically for a minute before confirming that Matthew was not a threat and speaking. The fae-like creature, which had gone silent, floated down to sit on Matthew’s shoulder. It made itself comfortable in his hair, and kept what felt like a reassuring presence on his shoulder.

“Mr. Prez took the PM out for a few drinks. He told me that they were going to discuss and hopefully finalise the proposal. I couldn’t go, though.” Alfred pouted for a minute, seemingly oblivious to the other’s increasingly not-so-internalised panic, before turning to his twin curiously.

“What do you think about the plan, Mattie? I asked your boss, but he just waved me off and told me to ask you myself.” Alfred’s gaze was searching, analysing Matthew’s every tiny reaction. The canadian’s breath caught in his chest, and he fought the urge to cough. The mythical on his shoulder buzzed again, but Matthew ignored it as his brain frantically whirled.

_This is a test_ , he realised.

A test to prove what? He didn’t know, but he was sure that it was a test he needed to pass. His twin continued gazing intently at him, the analytical nature of the stare sending shivers down his spine, and Matthew realised that he only had a moment to answer before anything he said would be regarded as suspicious.

What _did_ he think about the proposal? His boss hadn’t told him anything about it, and he couldn’t tell if he was supposed to agree or disagree with it.

So Matthew just went with the truth.

“I- the Prime Minister actually didn’t tell me anything about it. He said we were here to finalise a proposal, but he didn’t tell me any details.” Matthew held his breath, heart thudding in his chest heavily as Alfred examined both him and his answer, looking for any tells that led to lies and betrayal. Any little mistake, and he was going to be in _serious_ trouble.

“Cool! You’re gonna love it, Matt!” The smile was back on Alfred’s face, and Matthew relaxed a little. Surely, if Alfred was on board with it, then it couldn’t be _that_ bad, could it? 

_You never know, you can never know, it’ll blindside you when you least expect it-_ his mind whispered at him, and he decided to play it safe and get details before forming any sort of opinion.

“Can you tell me about it, Fred?” He asked hopefully, receiving a cheery thumbs-up from his twin. Any traces of previous suspicion seemed to be put to rest, and Matthew heaved a silent sigh of relief.

“Yeah! The gist of it is that our countries are combining! We’re going to be called the Fortisia Terra, which means ‘land of the strong,’ by the way! I picked the name myself!” Alfred continued to talk, expressing his excitement, not noticing that Matthew had stopped listening.

_Wait, what?!_

The canadian fought the urge to pace around the room again as his mind went in frantic circles. The new piece of information ricocheted within his head, loud and obnoxious and effectively serving to block out anything else. Whatever he’d expected the proposal to be, that wasn’t it. 

“...Mattie?” Alfred asked, bringing the other twin out of his reverie. The American’s gaze was narrowed at the other, his sky-blue eyes taking on a darker hue as malice filled them.

_Marde._

“Yes?” Matthew asked, shakingly. He had made a severe mistake in not controlling his reaction as he should have, and was probably a moment from Death By Perceived Treason. Once was a mistake, twice had a consequence. His breaths seemed stuck in his chest, and his hands grew clammy as he repeatedly clenched and unclenched them behind his back.

“You don’t have a _problem_ with the proposal, do you? Because that would _really_ screw up all my plans.”

The air took on a menacing aura, tension vibrating with every breath and every move. Alfred’s tone sent shivers down his twin’s spine, and Matthew fought to contain his discomfort, corralling his explosion of feelings and thoughts as fast as he could effectively manage. He desperately tried for an answer- it would have to show _some_ discomfort to seem believable, but not enough to cause Alfred to see him as a threat. The little person tugged on his hair slightly, and the canadian took that to mean that his time had just run out.

“No, I don’t have a problem. I was just caught a slight bit off guard.” Matthew said, forcing a chuckle and looking up with a wide-eyed gaze that would make the normal Alfred squish Matthew’s cheeks out of ‘pure cuteness overload.’ The northern brother knew that this Alfred wouldn’t, but he could only hope it made him appear to be innocent. “It will be a bit strange at first, but I will adjust. I think that this is a good idea for both our countries, Frère.”

“Good.” Alfred muttered, darkly, taking his gaze from Matthew to something only he could see. The tension lingered, still, and the canadian fidgeted uncomfortably.

Silence rang in the air for a moment as Alfred stared at a wall, his mind clearly elsewhere. Matthew watched him for any movements, flinching as the other brought his eyes back to Matthew’s. Alfred grinned widely, a crooked and gnarled grin, as his eyes took on a slight shine of insanity.

“I would hate to have to get rid of you so soon. Especially when we combined on your special day.”

Matthew’s eyes widened as he took an involuntary step back. The air around him was humming of _danger, danger, danger_ , and the canadian fought the urge to _do something_ and escape. Whatever small part of him that was still able to consciously make decisions told him that anything akin to escape would only serve to make Alfred angry, so he stayed in the room. His heart raced, its frantic beat not doing anything to calm his breathing pattern.

_Alright_ , he mentally calmed himself, _Alright. I can still talk the PM into postponing the merge until I can talk him out of it._

“Good news, gentlemen! We are now officially Fortisia Terra!”

Matthew spun to see an open doorway, in which both his PM and Alfred’s President were standing. The President was the one who had spoken, sporting a million-watt smile. It didn’t reach his eyes- it never had, not even during the initial presidential race, and that was perhaps one of the things that made Matthew wary of him back then.

“S-sir?” Matthew stuttered out, his face paling.

“We signed the documents and made it official. Congratulations!” The Prime Minister smiled amicably at the two, and Alfred turned to him, gripping his shoulders tightly and excitement written all across his face. 

_Gods, no. This has to be a joke, please tell me you’re joking._

Matthew’s silent plea to his prime minister went unrecognised, and Matthew felt as if the walls were collapsing around him for a short moment. He schooled his emotion again, electing to pay attention to the proceedings despite the fact that he felt a black hole had just opened in his chest and sucked any semblance of hope in it.

“United States.” The president stepped forward, pulling a few sheets of paper out of his folder, “You are, from now on, known as the United States of Fortesia. Here’s your new identification” Alfred received the documents, scanning them for a quick moment, before he stepped back and nudged Matthew forward.

The bright smile that Alfred wore did nothing to ease Matthew this time. 

“Canada.” The Prime Minister started, prompting his nation to reluctantly step forward in turn. The mythical that had up until then been still on his shoulder sprung to life, buzzing furiously around the PM’s face and vainly trying to tug the documents out of his hands. The human didn’t react, which was no surprise in of itself. 

“You are henceforth known as the Principality of Terra.” He continued, and the Canadian looked over his I.D for a bit - _name, occupation, position, security level_ \- before putting the papers down on the table. He still hadn’t completely processed the events of the past -what, thirty seconds?- and his mind wrestled with itself, trying to come to terms with the new reality.

“Well, we have things to prepare, don’t we mister Prime Minister? We’ll leave you two to do what you want for the rest of the day. It is a day to celebrate, after all!” The president grabbed the other official by his wrist, the grin on his face growing slightly sharklike in nature, and led him out of the room, leaving the two nations alone. Silence reigned once again, reclaiming its throne now that the humans had left, and Matthew took the time to gather himself up and find a course of action. He felt something tighten around his wrist, and glanced down out of the corner of his eye to find the little person tightly embracing the appendage.

_I will always be Canada._ Matthew decided then, a flash of emotion filling him for a small moment, _I’ve simply to pretend to be this ‘Principality of Terra’ for now. I can figure this out._

Then Alfred was gripping him by the other wrist, much as the President had done to the Prime Minister, and leading him out of the room where Everything Had Suddenly Gone Wrong. The grip was tight, nearly bruising, and Matthew twisted his hand slightly to convey his discomfort. The vice-like grip only tightened, and the canadian ceased his struggle.

“The Prez is right! We should go out and celebrate!” Alfred stopped suddenly and looked back at his twin, seeming distressed. The undertone of suspicion was still present in his eyes, in the furrow of his brows, and Matthew braced himself for whatever accusation was to come. “You’re happy too, right? We’ll be doing this together!”

Well, that didn’t sound like an accusation.

“Yes, Frère. Of course.” He smiled, forcing down his guilt for lying to his twin and shooting the other what he hoped was close to his usual smile. “After all, you can’t have Fortisia Terra without Terra, and that’s me. I’m sticking with you.” And you can’t have democracy without freedom, but here we are.

“Great, Mattie! Glad to have you on board! Oh, and no more French, okay? Speak English. It’s the language of democracy. Okay? Okay. Anyway, let’s go get some sweet stuff! I saw this café on my way in that I think you’ll like!”

Matthew chuckled weakly, forcibly keeping his hands still as he blinked away his gathering tears. It seemed he was in for quite the dangerous adventure, and the first casualty had just occurred. The mythical came to pat his cheek lightly, before settling back onto his shoulder and glaring daggers at Alfred from the safety of Matthew’s hair.

“Alright, Fred. Let’s go celebrate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I was planning to post this right after the prologue, but something came up and I was called in last-minute. As a result, this is a few hours late!
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention in the last chapter, but political figures (the President, any PM's, the Queen, etc.) are not in any way representative of either the current leaders nor the people who were in office at that time. They have been fabricated by me for this story's purpose. Thank you!
> 
> Translations and Explanations-  
> "...the havoc of the Red Scare not fifty years ago." - To the best of my knowledge, the "Red Scare" was a period in United States history (1950's or 60's I think) that involved extreme fear and apprehension towards communism and the U.S.S.R.. From what I understand, it was madness- many were jailed (possibly killed) because people reported them as possible communists, and it was just a general era of mistrust. 
> 
> "...legends of the Eskasoni peoples..." The native dwellers of Canada (the Quebec area in particular) that had many legends of mythical creatures- the legend of the 'little people' was remarkably similar to European legends of the Fae.
> 
> "Marde." - Canadian French slang for sh*t. Please correct me if I am wrong, because I do not speak Canadian French.
> 
> "...Frère." - French for 'brother'.
> 
> Alright, so this note ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be. I'll stop talking now.
> 
> Comments, critiques, and other things of the like are much appreciated! Ta!
> 
> India, signing off!


	3. Chapter Two- Sailor's Delight

16 August, 1989

London, England

8:45

Wednesday

Alisdair Kirkland stormed through one of the many hallways in the building, muttering his frustrations as he quickly made his way to the room where he was to meet the queen and some government officials. This meeting between the Irish Republic and the United Kingdom had been scheduled for a while, but the importance of it had increased significantly in the past twenty-four hours.

**_Fortesia Terra Invades the Soviet Union!_ ** _Smirnov Relinquishes Power of the Soviet Government to President Campbell-Hill!_ The headlines of _The Glasgow Herald_ had proclaimed that morning. The words ricocheted around Alisdair’s head, and he had to pause and take a breath, briefly wishing that Nessie was here to cheer him up, before pushing open the doors for the meeting room. 

“Alba!” Rhys admonished him as he walked in. “You’re late.”

Alisdair quickly apologised, taking his seat by his representatives. The man he sat down next to looked for a minute as if he may chide the nation for his impunctuality, but something about the storm-cloud demeanour hanging around his head seemed to dissuade him.

Alisdair scanned the room, checking off his brothers one by one. Satisfied that they were all present, he turned his attention back to what the official from England (who wasn’t the queen) was saying.

“Fortisia Terra has shown to be a threat!” The woman said, emphatically, “They have invaded and conquered North America and much of the Caribbean, and have pushed down into South America! Their armies are pushing west, into Japan and Australia, and now that The U.S.S.R. and many of its satellite states have fallen, they have a foothold in not only Asia, but also Europe!”

Alisdair found himself (and most of the room, if the frowns and head-nods were anything to go by) agreeing with the woman. Everyone except Arthur, who was staring past Alisdair at the wall. His gaze was far away, and it was clear to the eldest Kirkland that Arthur’s mind was elsewhere - for once there weren’t any fae around to jerk him back to the present. The eldest Kirkland took a minute to catch Rhys’ gaze, then subtly nodded to the faraway blond sitting beside the Welshman. Rhys glanced at Alisdair again in realisation, before nudging Arthur softly to get his attention. 

Arthur didn’t react, and after a few seconds Rhys tried again, his nudge harsh as discussion started around the table. This seemed to jolt Arthur out of his reverie, and he startled slightly, the two blonds conversing for a moment in hushed tones. The elder of the two gestured towards Alisdair, and Arthur glanced towards him, answering his silent question of _are you alright?_

Needless to say, Arthur’s reaction time was not reassuring in the least, and the flare of worry that had been lit in his chest joined with his frustration as it grew. He felt a desire, for the most fleeting of moments, to take hold of his younger brother’s shoulders and shake him until he got a straight answer from the other so Alisdair could _fix_ whatever was troubling him. Discarding the thought after a minute, he forcibly dragged his attention back to the matter at hand.

“How do you propose we react, in relation to homeland security?” The minister from Wales was asking in the wake of the Englishwoman’s speech. 

“I suggest a possible collaboration between the United Kingdom and the Republic of Ireland, to help share militaristic and civilian resources to better protect the Isles.” Alisdair’s representative said from beside the nation, and he gained a few agreements, yet also a few unsure and wary gazes from the assembled politicians. Alisdair cast a subtle glance over towards Aedan, who had gone still at the mention of a close collaboration, and the elder knew that it felt almost too similar to something that Aedan had fought so hard against earlier in the century. Arthur didn’t react, his mind far away again - and although spacing out from time to time was normal for his little brother, doing it this frequently and _during an important meeting_ definitely was not. 

Alisdair frowned down at the table.

_We will have to fix this._

“And what benefit would that provide for our respective nations?” Came the question from one of the Irish Republic’s representatives, her sharp eyes settling on the man who had proposed the plan. It was surely the same query that had been echoing in everyone’s minds, and Alisdair was more than a tad curious about the answer.

“We would be able to better defend our economy and our borders while still remaining as separate entities. As the Fortesian Confederation’s power grows, we may find ourselves both militaristically and economically threatened as they continue to advance. This initiative would allow both the Irish Republic and the United Kingdom to rebuild quicker and more efficiently to negate whatever damage remains after World War Two, leaving us better prepared in case of any aggression.” The scotsman cooly rebuked, meeting the woman’s glare. She frowned, yet kept silent, recognising the truth in his words. The minister from England started another query, yet was cut off by the ringing of the landline in the corner. It kept ringing for a moment until Patrick walked over, then picked it up and placed it immediately back down, hanging up on whoever was calling and sending the firm message to call another time. 

“As I was about to say-”

The phone rang, again, and this time it was Aedan who quickly moved to silence the noisy object. Alisdair could tell that the Queen was considering unplugging the device from her facial expression, and he restrained a chuckle at the thought.

“Please continue.” She instead turned to the representative of her own country, trying to keep up whatever remained of the decorum.

“Er, yes. I would like to inquire as to-”

The phone rang for the third time, and Arthur moved to pick it up before any of the others could. He put it to his ear, seeming intent to politely tell whoever it was on the other end to _stop calling_ , but then he froze.

“Matthew?” He whispered, and Alisdair’s head whipped around to meet his younger brother’s eyes. Most of the officials in the room looked confused as to why Arthur hadn’t told the person on the other end to bugger off yet, but something in the English nation’s tone must have put their annoyance at bay. Alisdair looked to the Queen and then to his own representative, silently asking permission to join his brother at the phone, and received affirmatives from both.

His brothers apparently took that as a cue to do the same, and soon the entire personifications of Great Britain and the Island of Ireland were standing around the telephone. Alisdair could feel the tension buzzing in the air- this was the first time that any of them had been contacted by the North American since his nation had been merged into Fortesia Terra, shortly after his withdrawal from the commonwealth.

“Perhaps we should dismiss to the sitting room?” One of the ministers suggested after a moment, and the humans collectively got up and left the room. Arthur held the phone horizontally in front of him, and all five Kirklands crowded around. 

“-thur. Dad, are you there?” Matthew's tinny voice asked over the line. He sounded panicked at the prospect of being hung up on, and Arthur hurried to reassure him. 

“Yes, lad. I’m here. My brothers, too. All of us are here except Peter."

A haggard breath sounded over the line, and Alisdair put a reassuring arm around the Englishman's shoulders. It didn't take a genius to see that Arthur was afraid for his ex-charge, and the Scotsman suspected that his younger brother would be worrying out of his mind by the time they all got home. 

"Matt, my boy, what has you distressed?" Arthur asked tenderly, concern colouring his words. Alisdair was reminded strongly of his mother for a minute, but he figured he had better things to use brainpower on than analysing the similarities between his mum and his brother.

“It’s Alfred, dad.”

Well, that was just lovely. Alisdair had been able to infer that the american boy had not been his regular self once, well, he started _trying to conquer the rest of the world in the name of democracy_ , but it seemed he had underestimated the extent to which the new president had influenced Alfred if it was so bad that Matthew was calling. Arthur had always said that Alfred had felt too much- sometimes for his own good, as it made him particularly susceptible to the emotions of his peoples. 

“What about Alfred, dear?” The question was hesitant, and the eldest four took the unanimous, unspoken decision to stay silent and let Arthur comfort the Canadian. Too many people on the line would only probably serve to confuse the poor boy, and it would drastically reduce the efficiency with which they might get details about Matthew’s situation.

“He’s- he’s _different_ . It-it’s just like the forties and fifties! I don’t know what to do, and he won’t let me _leave_ , and I’m not even supposed to be talking to you right now-”

Matthew’s speech devolved into short breaths, and it sounded as if he was a minute away from hyperventilating over the landline. Arthur rushed to calm him, murmuring reassuring words to the canadian. There was a silence on the line as the younger audibly made an effort to calm himself down, and in his words were mostly steady when he started talking again.

“He’s- he’s so _paranoid,_ dad! He keeps giving me that _look_ , like he’s analysing me, searching me, and everything I do and I say needs to be calculated, lest he think I’m going to betray him!” Matthew continued, his tone growing more and more frazzled. Alisdair internally winced. He knew from personal experience that these types of interactions, while usually not getting to the point to permanently fracture relationships, could cause tension and unease- especially between family. The amount of conflict that the Kirklands had was a testament to that- they probably wouldn’t solve _half_ their problems as quickly as they had if it wasn’t for some annoyed mythical forcing them to talk out their differences.

“Matthew, Matthew, my boy, calm down. Do you want to talk about something else?” Arthur offered, seeming calm on the surface. His eyes met Alisdair’s darker ones, and in that moment the eldest could see how badly the conversation had shaken up the englishman. The briton’s put-on sturdy tone did seem to have its intended effect of calming Matthew, and the Kirklands traded a look as the north american continued.

“N-no. I called to t-tell you the truth, and give you the warning. Alfred- _Fortesia_ is serious. He won’t stop, and _Alfred_ isn’t like this, and _I need to get out, can you please get me out of here?_ ”

Matthew seemed to be devolving into hysterics again, and Alisdair saw the moment when Arthur slipped back into being a ‘parent’, stepping in for damage control.

“Matt, love, listen to me. Are you listening?” Arthur paused, long enough for the canadian to give a shaky noise of assent, before continuing. “I will take your warning, and I will go to everyone else. I’ll pass on your message. And we _will get you out_.” Arthur’s voice was a harsh whisper by the end of that statement, and there was a moment of silence. The Englishman’s eyes, still locked with Alisdair’s, were burning with an old, familiar fire. A steely, immovable determination that had seen the fall of an empire in the midst of a rain of death, not fifty years earlier.

“O-okay.” Came the reply, and Arthur’s gaze flicked downwards, refocusing on the floor just as his attention went back to the conversation. 

“You have done all you can, dear. Just stay strong, alright? We will come for you.” 

Despite the reassurance, which was probably Arthur saying whatever he could to calm Matthew, Alisdair’s mind whirled with strategies and plans for how they would, indeed, get the boy out of danger. He fought the urge to suddenly start pacing, knowing that it would put all of his brothers on edge.

“Be quiet for a minute, dad.”

A tense moment passed, the only sound on the line Matthew’s laboured breaths. He exhaled softly after a minute, and Rhys and Patrick both looked to the eldest Kirkland for a cue on what to do. Alisdair was just about ready to break the silence so that it would stop crawling down his spine, when-

“I have to go _Alfredjustcameintotheroomokaybye_ -” 

A thud sounded, and Matthew softly swore. Arthur opened his mouth, and Alisdair frantically signalled to _stay quiet, did you not hear what the child said?_

Arthur didn’t see the gestures, but Alisdair’s fear was slightly alleviated as Rhys placed a hand over Arthur’s mouth. At his brother’s slightly questioning, slightly annoyed look, the welshman simply sighed and signalled to wait. After a moment of consideration, Arthur nodded slightly, and the brothers settled back to listen.

16 August, 1989

Vancouver, Principality of Terra [Formerly: Dominion of Canada]

1:06

Wednesday

Matthew quickly placed the phone down, trying and failing to put the handset into the receiver in his blind panic. He gave up on the phone as his twin stumbled into the room, a reminder that this was Alfred shoving itself in the blond’s face as the Fortesian ( _American_ , Matthew corrected himself) tripped over nothing on his way into the room. Alfred caught himself, regaining his footing as he adjusted his glasses and took a moment to look over the state of his trembling twin. Matthew desperately tried to hide his fear, but in the dark of the early morning, under the glare of the soft yellow lighting that illuminated his house, it was a bit easier to replace Alfred’s figure with a more menacing version, easier to imagine hidden malice in the eyes that were raking over him.

The little person that had stayed to comfort Matthew since the formation of Fortesia woke in the corner, the slight glow that signalled a mythical going unnoticed by the nation occupants of the room. 

“Mattie?” Alfred asked, sounding more than a wee bit concerned at his twin’s behaviour. His voice broke through the haze in Matthew’s thoughts, and the other let out a sound of acknowledgement after a minute. “Dude, why are you pressed up against the wall?”

“I-I’m fine, Fred. J-just waiting for you to get home.” He lied through his teeth, an air of faux calm around his words. It had become common for Alfred to return from meetings ridiculously late- or early, seeing that it was one in the morning -because of the responsibility that he now held as a power over that much more land. Matthew grasped the hand that his brother had offered him, using the other’s help in hoisting himself to his feet. 

Alfred stepped back and wiped his hand against his shirt, simultaneously adjusting his glasses as he surveyed the room. Matthew’s eyes frantically darted around, trying to look for anything that could warrant Alfred’s suspicion. Nothing seemed out of place, and Matthew almost relaxed when he caught sight of the handset, sitting innocently just beside the receiver. His friend, the little person, was desperately trying to pick the object up and move it quietly and unnoticeably back to its regular resting place, but it was unable to gain enough purchase to lift the receiver. 

_Marde. Oh lord, this is not good._

“What did you discuss?” Matthew asked, coming up in front of Alfred, a sliver of desperation in his tone as he tried to distract the other. Alfred scrutinised him, suspicion awakening in his eyes, yet he continued. “The meeting was really long - did anything big happen?”

“What are you hiding from me?” He growled, yanking Matthew roughly towards him with his shirt collar. The canadian choked at the sudden movement, clawing at his throat to tear off the strangling hold. He succeeded after a minute of struggle between him and his brother, and stumbled a few steps away as he gasped for air. 

“A-Al-”

“WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?!” Alfred roared in his face, closing the distance between them once again. Matthew trembled ever-so-slightly, afraid of the other even though they were equals in terms of strength. His eyes darted briefly towards the unattended handheld, where the little person had frozen in shock, and Alfred’s menacing gaze tracked the movement. “Oh, so you called someone. Let’s find out who, shall we? I bet you didn’t even have time to hang up, because you were talking to them right before I came into the room!”

Alfred was right, of course, but the other blond did not deign him a response. Matthew’s breaths started to stutter as Alfred approached the landline, picking up the receiver in a crushing grip. The little person was knocked off the table, spinning through the air until it regained its bearings and flew back into the corner, out of direct danger. Matthew only wished he could do the same.

_There won’t be a dial tone and it’s only a matter of time once he figures out who I would call at a time like this, and then he’ll lock me up and go invade them and I won’t be able to warn anyone and it’s over it’s over it’s over-_

Matthew’s breaths stalled as Alfred picked up the handset, waiting for the inevitable explosion of _You traitor!_ and _how could you betray me like this, I thought we were in this together?_ and _I can’t trust you anymore, so I’ll have to put you somewhere where you’re out of the way._

“Hm. Dial tone.”

Matthew opened his eyes after a moment, daring to peek out previously-screwed-shut eyelids.

“I guess that it was nothing after all, Matt.”

The warmth in his voice was back, but Matthew’s uneasiness didn’t leave him as he (once again) took Alfred’s hand to help himself up. The other had brushed his earlier behaviour off as if it was nothing, and Matthew knew that it probably _was_ nothing in Alfred’s current state of mind- just doing what he had to to protect his empire. Bringing it up would lead nowhere, and Matthew couldn’t fool himself into thinking he had the upper hand, even for a moment.

The truth of the matter was that he didn’t, and he never would as long as he stayed with Alfred.

So he smiled in the quiet way he’d been told he had, and followed his now animatedly chattering twin to the kitchen for dinner-turned-breakfast. 

The little person tugged on some of his hair, as if to tell him not to go into a room with the other nation, but Matthew gently swatted away the mythical.

“Yeah, Alfred. Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> I really hope you liked the chapter! Please, tell me what you think in the comments! I wasn't really sure to do with this Chapter, because it's just more exposition at this point- I hope that wasn't too obvious.
> 
> (Also, thank you so much to purified_water for rereading the chapters again and again and again and _again_ every time I make a small edit before I post. Don't know what I would do without you!)
> 
> I hope you are all staying safe and well through this Pandemic of ours! 
> 
> Translations and Explanations-
> 
> "...The U.S.S.R and many of its satellite states..." - During the Cold War (~1945 - 1990 in regular history) the Soviet Union extended its influence over most of Eastern Europe, leading to the iron curtain and the eastern bloc - a situation in which (to the best of my knowledge) Eastern Europe was cut off from the rest of Europe until a string of revolutions in late 1989.
> 
> "...it felt almost too similar to something that Aedan had fought against earlier in the century." - Referring to the Irish war for Independence, in which Ireland established its own Republic separate from the United Kingdom. Took place from 1919 - 1921. 
> 
> "...just like the forties and fifties!" - A period in American History in which the practise of McCarthyism spread paranoia in communities against Communism and the Soviet Union. 
> 
> "...seen the fall of an Empire in the midst of a rain of death, not fifty years earlier." - Referring to the end of the British Empire following World War Two, along with the creation of the British Commonwealth (now called the Commonwealth of Nations).
> 
> Signing off,  
> India


	4. Chapter Three-Red Sky in the Morning

16 August, 1989

London, England

9:14

Wednesday

Alfred's voice grew closer to the phone, and Aedan realised with a terrible awareness that he was about to pick up the handset on the other side. The feeling welled up in him, slowly but surely, and he had to fight for a moment to keep it from overwhelming him.

_ What can we do? _ Aedan worried, because even if the Kirklands weren't found out, Matthew was still in the room with Alfred, and would undoubtedly receive the consequences of his perceived ‘betrayal’. 

_ A spell? No, not enough time to find the right one, and they don’t work over phone lines, idiot! There aren’t any mythicals around to help with long-distance casting, even if magic did work that way! _

The Irishman looked around the circle of nations to see if any of his brothers had a clue what to do.

Arthur was still frozen in shock, some sort of internal battle or revelation or something- of- the- sort taking place in his mind, so he would be no help. Patrick had excused himself right after Alfred had gotten suspicious (perhaps sensing the coming conflict) and Aedan could  _ hear _ his twin falling apart outside, but right now they needed to find a way to fix the situation, so he wrenched his thoughts away from his Northern brother's crisis. Alisdair and Rhys gave him similar unknowing glances, and Aedan felt his heart sink in his chest.

_ Alright _ , Aedan mentally calmed himself,  _ Think quickly. What do you expect when you pick up a disconnected line? _

"Dial tone!" He whispered harshly to the two others that were still in a present state of mind. Aedan saw realisation flash through Alisdair's eyes, and the Scotsman immediately started looking around for something that could help them reproduce a dial tone. Rhys looked confused, but gently took the handset from Arthur and handed it to Aedan.

"-right before I came in!" Alfred was saying, his outraged voice too close to the handset for comfort, and Aedan could almost hear his breath on the receiver when-

The button for the intercom sat on the keypad, and Aedan reached out and pushed it before he had a chance to think. The tone sounded, constant and grating, and a tense, stress-filled moment passed as there was silence over the line.

_ Please work, please work, Matthew is a good kid and I would hate to see him hurt because of something like this. _

The minute between Alfred picking up and his reaction seemed to drag into eternity, and the ginger had to consciously make the decision to keep breathing.

"Hm. Dial tone. " Sounded faintly over the line , and Aedan could have jumped for joy. He didn’t, because Alfred still hadn’t hung up and it was crucial to make no mistakes. 

Another tense minute went by, before the line went  dead and the actual dial tone sounded. Alisdair stiffly placed the handset back on the receiver, and took a calming breath before walking over to the youngest present. He joined Rhys in coaxing Arthur out of his thoughts, whispering assurances in an attempt to get Arthur functioning again.

Aedan observed for a minute, before pushing open the doors and approaching his own twin.

“Come on, Pat. I’ll tell you what else happened on the way.”

9:25

_ Anger _ .

_ Desolation. _

_ Fear. _

_ Concern. _

A host of emotions flashed rapidly through Arthur, forming a vicious cycle of emotional assault to his soul as he walked towards the place where the meeting from earlier was continuing. He couldn’t stop hearing Alfred’s shout, mixed with a horrible, terrible choking noise that reverberated around his head. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to will away the images that his mind had imagined up to go with the grating sounds. His step stuttered as his concentration diverted, the man nearly tripping over his own feet.

A small squeeze from the callused hand on his shoulder brought Arthur back to the present, and from beside him Rhys leaned close to check if he was alright. The Englishman absently waved off his concern, quickening his pace and adjusting his suit jacket stiffly. He felt Alisdair’s troubled gaze on his back as he vaguely registered the redhead talking to Rhys in low tones. 

Arthur scowled and walked faster, coming between Aedan and Patrick. The two immediately sandwiched him, staying silent, and Arthur thanked anyone who was up there for  _ that _ mercy, because there wasn’t any time to worry about  _ Arthur _ , they had to get Matthew out from Fortesia Terra (why did Alfred choose Latin?) and the faster everyone could get their act together, the faster they could come up with a plan to get the rest of Europe and rescue Matthew, and then find a way to somehow get Alfred back to himself-

“Breathe, lad.” This time it was Aedan’s rough voice that shook him out of his reverie, and he found himself peering into grass-green eyes. The others were all  _ looking _ at him, and he realised that he had stopped walking at some point during his inner monologue. His breath was also coming in short gasps, and he willed himself to calm down before he truly started to panic.

“Yes, alright.” He finally said, after a minute. The anxious feeling was still hovering at the edges of his mind, its creeping presence ever-unsettling, but Arthur did his best to push it further back. After all, Matthew was in danger,  _ in trouble _ , and there was nothing that Arthur or Alisdair or anyone could do to  _ save _ him, even though Arthur knew that his ex-charge was resourceful and could handle the situation for a tad longer. That said, the phone call near-miss had been too much of a close call to leave Arthur’s psyche unscathed. There were so many what-ifs; what if Aedan hadn’t thought to use the intercom? What if Alfred had picked up the handset just a little bit faster? What if Arthur hadn’t stood there like an absolute idiot and  _ done _ something? 

“Okay, that’s it.” Alisdair said, iron in his words as he maneuvered Arthur over to an arched window. “Sit.” Arthur was pushed down onto the ledge, and Alisdair sat beside him, an arm around him preventing him from escape. The Englishman looked to the rest of his brothers, pleading for support against whatever Alisdair was trying to pull, but Patrick looked away as Aedan shook his head, denying Arthur’s unspoken request. Rhys just raised an eyebrow at him and gestured at his shaking - _ shaking? When did my hands start shaking _ ?- hands. Arthur scowled.

_ Fine, then. I’ll do it myself. _

“What are we doing, sitting here?” Arthur asked, annoyance and franticity intermixing in his tone. He pushed against his eldest brother, trying to get up so they could continue to the other delegates, but Alisdair remained unmoving. “We need to go talk to everyone and get a plan in action to save Matthew and stop Alfred!” Because the longer Matthew stayed in that environment, the more likely it became that everything would come crashing down on his head. Alfred reminded Arthur of himself in his worst moments when he was like this, and he knew that if they didn’t get the boy back to his senses he could end up doing things that would haunt him for the rest of his existence. Matthew was in the path of destruction and he could be badly hurt or _ worse _ -

“You need to calm down.” Rhys’ tone was stern in a way that Arthur didn’t hear often, and as his eyes snapped up to meet the Welshman’s he knew that he wouldn’t be leaving until the others got whatever it was they wanted to say out of the way.

“B-but the delegates! They will be waiting for us, too!” He protested anyway, knowing as soon as he said it that it was a weak excuse. They didn’t have the  _ time _ to worry about what the delegates thought, because they needed a plan to-

A meaningful glance, unseen by Arthur, passed between Alisdair and Aedan. The Irishman subtly inclined his head and grabbed his twin’s wrist, pulling him towards the end of the hall. 

Aedan knew that there was a particular state of mind that Arthur got into sometimes where his thoughts would basically go around in circles and compound whatever stress he was also feeling. It stung to acknowledge it, but for all his worry he knew that Rhys and Alisdair were best equipped to deal with Arthur when he got like this. 

Besides, he and Patrick could always bombard him with their own brand of affection later. It was always most effective with a few good-natured faefolk willing to help with the pranks, anyway.

Arthur blinked as the twins vanished down the end of the hall, taking his last hope of escape with them. He’d barely caught Aedan’s last sentence- a ‘we’ll take care of the delegates’ that was thrown over his shoulder- and Arthur hadn’t been able to function properly enough to reason with them to take him along before they had already gone.

“Now.” Alisdair started, drawing the blond’s attention back to him. “Breathe with me, laddie. You are going in circles again, and that isn’t helping anything.”

Arthur didn’t see  _ why, _ because he  _ certainly wasn’t going in bloody circles, thank you very much, _ and what were they doing wasting time when they had to go save Matthew?

He blinked, stopping himself as he recognised the thought process he’d had atleast thirty times in the past fifteen minutes.

When had his breaths turned shallow again?

_ Ah, bloody h*ll. _

So he quieted and followed Alisdair’s instructions, recognising that the faster they got this over with, the faster he could get back to what actually mattered. He tried to concentrate on calming down, viciously ignoring the thoughts that whispered at him that he was  _ wasting time sitting here and making sure you don’t panic when you could be working on something to save Matthew- remember him? The kid in danger? Yeah? _

He shoved these thoughts to the back of his mind, vowing to push them aside until he had a non-crucial moment when he could fall apart- namely, tonight.

Within a few minutes, he had gotten his breathing back to some semblance of regular, so he opened his eyes and moved to get up. 

“What now?! I am alright, so let’s go!” He asked, when he was blocked yet again; this time by Rhys grabbing his shoulders and placing him back down. He struggled for a minute before Alisdair suddenly embraced him. Arthur went still from the unexpected action, shifting slightly up to look at his brother’s mess of carmine hair.

“A-Ali?” Arthur tentatively asked, his voice muffled by the scotsman’s shirt. It wasn’t rare for any of his brothers (except for probably Rhys) to express affection in terms of a crushing tackle-embrace or some good-natured hair ruffles, but said gestures usually didn’t come out of nowhere like this one had. 

“I don’t like to see you like this, Arthur. Stressed, and tense, and worrying yourself in a downwards spiral. It’s not  _ good _ for you,  _ jo _ .” 

Arthur was rendered speechless. He knew he was inclined towards behaviours that would only increase his own anxiety in stressful situations where someone he loved might get hurt, but he never thought that these moods were actively hurting those around him. He was aware, of course, that Rhys and Alisdair, atleast, did know the nature of this conundrum, but not that they’d actually - well,  _ care _ .

“He is right.” Rhys said softly, “We know you’re worried about Matthew- we all are, but panicking isn’t going to help anything. We all need you in a good state of mind, and in a good headspace, so we can get through this. Let us take care of you, so we know that you can depend on us just like we hope we can depend on you.” Rhys’ tone was imploring, pleading, in a way that Arthur had hoped he’d never have to hear again, because it usually meant that the welshman was at the end of his rope and was reaching for his last resort to solve the arisen problem.

“...Alright.” Arthur said after a moment. Emotions were still swirling within his chest, thrashing and twisting, and turning and whirling, but Arthur took a breath and calmed himself down best he could. The emotions and thoughts running rampant and wreaking havoc inside his head were aggressively pushed back into their darkened corner, and the Englishman set his mind fully on what lay ahead.

The three brothers stayed there for a few moments longer, the overspill of feelings and thoughts that were finally said lingering in the air around them, and they drew comfort from the way that one can only draw comfort from company of loved ones.

“I think that I am ready to rejoin everyone else. Truly, this time.” It was Arthur who had broken the silence, his third attempt at standing from the window ledge proceeding unobstructed. Rhys nodded and stood up as well, as Alisdair slung an arm around each of his brothers’ shoulders. He ruffled Arthur’s hair good-naturedly as they walked, causing to Arthur bat the hand away annoyedly.

“You’re messing up my hair, Ali!” The scotsman laughed as Rhys rolled his eyes at their antics, and the three continued on.

9:39

“-reports of Ame-Fortesian soldiers gaining more ground in Australia. The government has requested a greater fighting force, and they are receiving minimal help from New Zealand.” An official was saying as he read from a folder when the doors swung open. Patrick startled and Aedan snickered slightly, having seen the other jump a metre into the air as the door impacted the wall with a thud. He earned a hard pat on the arm for that, and they jostled eachother discreetly for a moment more before turning their attention back to the table.

“Ah, Scotland, England, and Wales. I understand the contents of the phone call were a family matter?” The Queen asked, Rhys giving a single nod in response. A family matter- that was what the twins had told the council gathered when asked about said meeting interruption. More than a few of the delegates had looked slightly sour about the fact that they could not know what had happened in the seemingly earth-shattering conversation, but Aedan and Patrick had stood firm in their unwillingness to disclose any details.

(Patrick also pretended he hadn’t heard half the conversation after he had exited the room, but he had a feeling everyone present in the room knew that he had pressed his ear to the door soon after entering the hall, his curiosity and concern disallowing him to let the matter go, but not able to summon the courage to reenter.)

“Yes, your majesty.” Arthur said, stepping forwards and speaking to all assembled. “The situation’s urgency has been made clearer, as Fortesia Terra seems to be showing as a threat the likes of which we have never seen. Fortesia right now has the power to be able to single-handedly take over the world while the rest of us are still trying to rebuild from the ashes. I have no doubt that Fortesia’s next target will be Europe. The eastern bloc will be easy to acquire as a result of the Iron Curtain, and Germany, France, and Italy are still in the early stages of rebuilding. Spain is also still suffering after their rather rough transition to a constitutional monarchy, and the United Nations is both young and heavily influenced by the decisions of Fortesia.”

Silence rung, louder than any level of conversation, before a delegate meekly steered the conversation back to what they had been originally debating.

“Er, so it would seem that Australia does require any support we can provide.”

The explosion was immediate, and Patrick winced slightly as the debates started up again.

“We cannot ask any more of our people to go fight again! We have given them back their troops, and we have given them all we can spare in terms of artillery! If the threat of Fortesia Terra is truly as great as it has been made out to be, then should we not make sure we have the best to protect ourselves? Other than Fortesia and the Soviet Union- which we have all seen crumble- we are the only semblance of a world power left!”

“That is a valid point. We are the next biggest target, so we should stay prepared when Fortesia does focus its efforts on us.”

Patrick tried to follow the debate as delegates posed heated points, which were met with lighting-quick rebuttals moments later. Arthur seemed to be mostly alright, his forest green eyes darting from person to person as he mentally noted points, looking for a good time to put in his own two pence on the matter. 

“What do we know about the current state of Australia? Any details on how much ground has been lost?” 

A lull in the conversation occurred, and Patrick thought it a good moment to give his knowledge of the situation.

“I talked to Australia a few days ago, and he seems to be losing. From what I understand, half the island has been lost, and although, as mentioned, New Zealand is giving some level of assistance, they are preoccupied with their own fight against Fortesia.” 

The politicians muttered among themselves, talking among those from their country to decide their stance on the issue. Aedan’s hand tightened around Patrick’s under the table, and he took silent comfort in his grounding presence. Patrick closed his eyes for a moment- as usual, the personifications were exempt from the domestic talks taking place, which really didn’t make sense considering they were literally the  _ representation of the people and the land _ -and wow, Patrick really shouldn’t be distracted during a conference.

10:36

After much long consideration, a final decision to be proposed to individual governments was crafted, and the meeting had been adjourned. Rhys tugged at his collar as he stepped out into the crisp outer climate, looking up at the cloud-dotted blue sky. 

_ Inhale. _

_ Exhale _ .

The entire situation had put him- all of them on edge, and although he was better at managing his anxiety than Arthur was, he couldn’t stop the trickle of nervousness that wormed its way into his soul. What they had decided to do in regards to Australia would most likely make the difference in how hard the road ahead would be- if Fortesia Terra got Australia, they would have another entryway into Asia, and would be able to use a multifaceted attack strategy. 

Unlike his brothers, Rhys did not hold out much hope for mainland Europe; everyone was still slowly rebuilding, and with Fortesia’s acquisition of Russia, they would take over the continent with ease. The Americas were as good as gone; it was only a matter of time, and so the last hope rested on the Asian and African continents. If either fell, it spelled the end of the world (and true democracy) as everyone knew it.

_ I hope we made the right decision. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry that this chapter is a bit late. Life in general has been quite insane (as I'm sure most of us know) and I haven't really been getting any time to write or post. It's not really at my usual standard either, but it's more of a transitional chapter for character interactions and establishing character relations than anything else. 
> 
> I also tried to remember what I could about the old landline phones used before mobiles and stuff, but I was quite young at the time and even if I recollect correctly, I may not be completely accurate in what technology was at the time because I wasn't alive then. 
> 
> Next chapter should be centred on more of Europe!
> 
> Translations and explanations-  
> "... _jo_." - A term in Scottish Gaelic, if I'm not mistaken, that can be used as an endearment to address someone close to the speaker, in both romantic and non-romantic ways. In this case, it is being used in a familial connotation. I'm not a fluent speaker, though, so if I'm using the word incorrectly or something please let me know!
> 
> "...Germany, France, and Italy are still rebuilding." - World War two left most of Europe in a very decimated state, due to the weapons and war tactics that were used. In addition, the reduced global power of many formerly influential countries at the start of the Cold War made rebuilding an even harder task.
> 
> "Spain is also still suffering after their rather rough transition to a constitutional monarchy..." - To the best of my knowledge, Spain underwent a governmental change after the death of Francisco Franco in 1978. Both the government and the population were quite heavily divided, and there was frequent violence within Spain from 1978-1980. The entire decade after that was a transitional period where there was some upheaval and a lot of uncertainty as this new system came into place. 
> 
> "...the United Nations is both young and heavily influenced by the decisions of Fortesia." When the United Nations was first formed following World War Two, the five countries regarded as helping end the war ended up being major players in the structure; namely, China, the United Kingdom, the United States, Russia, and France. Due to the war, the U.S. and Russia were the only 'global powers' and thus held the most weight out of this group at the time, and in this story Russia is no longer its own state. 
> 
> Anyway, you all know the drill- comments and criticism are always appreciated!
> 
> Please stay safe!
> 
> Signing off,   
> India


	5. Chapter Four - Sailors Take Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't generally do pre-chapter notes, but I just wanted to state that there will be mentions of The Holocaust in this chapter. 
> 
> If this will impact you, then I implore you to please not read this chapter. Your health comes first and foremost.

19 August, 1989

Austro-Hungarian Border

9:34

Saturday

Roderich Edelstein waited at the Border, exchanging pleasantries with whatever other officials had shown up early to try and prepare things before the civilians arrived. He could see the Hungarian border town of Sopron, from which people would hopefully come to attend the event scheduled for later today - despite the unexpected pouring rain. Ludwig Beilschmidt, his younger cousin and the person currently pushing his wheelchair through the mud, nodded tensely to another official that cheerfully greeted them as he tightened his grip on the Austrian’s shoulder. Roderich would usually wheel himself around and save the smarting pride that came with inability, but mud proved to be particularly troublesome. 

The man left, and there was a moment of silence between the two nations as they both looked across the familiar border. 

“Do-do you think they’ll be here?” The blond cautiously asked after a moment, and Roderich didn’t need names to know that he was referring to Gilbert and Erzsébet, both of whom had been stuck behind the Iron curtain since its formation. There hadn’t been any contact for a long while, but then out of the blue, a letter had come to Roderich one day from his wife that hurriedly explained that both she and Gilbert had escaped the Soviet Union with Ivan’s help, and were currently making their way to Hungary- a story that both Roderich and Ludwig would listen to later, no doubt. 

“Hopefully, Lutz. In a few hours, we will see them again.” Roderich said, letting a smile curve his face. It was dangerous to hope, foolish even, yet Roderich could not find it in himself to quash his spirits. Most people with a somewhat realistic sense of situation- which usually included Roderich - wouldn’t still be hopeful against the odds; namely, Fortesia’s take over of Slovakia, along with the approach into Hungary.

Still, the event was in only a few hours, and it hadn’t been called off yet, so it would be fine, right?

“Roderich.” Ludwig gently brought him out of his thoughts, and the Austrian realised that he had been gripping the handles of the wheelchair hard enough to leave his knuckles white. He took a deep breath, adjusting the umbrella in his other hand. 

He would see them. He would see Erzsébet, his wonderful wife whom he hadn’t talked to since he’d been sent to Dachau in what- 1938? Erzsi had been, to the best of his knowledge, confined to house arrest in Hungary. 

And Gilbert- he hadn’t held a conversation with the younger since Gilbert had helped him and Erzsi escape Austria after the Anschluss. He hoped he’d gotten his cross back, atleast, because although Roderich had been sent to Auschwitz before Gilbert could rescue him from Chelmno, Feliks had told the aristocrat that the girl he’d given said cross to for protection had escaped with Gilbert’s group. 

Another politician approached, and Roderich dragged himself from his thoughts to politely converse with the woman while Ludwig stood uncomfortably by. One of his hands was still on Roderich’s shoulder, and the elder gave it a reassuring squeeze. He could practically feel the anxiousness radiating off Ludwig at the thought of seeing Gilbert and Erzsébet again for the first time after the war, and Roderich knew that the German was equal parts nervous and excited to see them again. 

“It will be alright, Lutz. It’s almost time. All that’s left to do is wait.” Roderich whispered to him as the human walked away, and the words seemed to calm the blond if the slight relaxation of the hand on his shoulder said anything.

All that’s left to do is wait.

14:08

Ludwig glanced at his watch again, wiping off the raindrops and squinting at the small dashes. 

It’s only been a minute?!

The German refrained from groaning, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind that neither the Austrian sitting in front of him nor the politician said Austrian was talking to would appreciate that. He tuned back into the conversation, trying his best to follow the topic at hand.

It proved to be unsuccessful, as a minute later Ludwig was pulling himself out of whirling thoughts and checking his watch nervously. He felt like pacing, the jumpy feeling similar to the night before deployment to the battlefield. The blond knew, rationally, that neither his elder brother nor his cousin’s wife would harbor ill will towards him, because they both understood how nations could change over time due to who they were run by and the state of their people. 

Despite this, a small doubt did remain, because he’d been horrible, awful, to both of them during the war, and how could he expect them to be over it when he still wasn’t?

What if they both hated him? What if they never wanted to speak to him again? 

Sure, Roderich had forgiven him even after all he’d done, but the two had time to talk out their emotions and Roderich never really addressed his feelings anyway, and what if they both absolutely despised him from the bottom of their souls-

A call from the border drew everyone’s attention, and Ludwig turned just in time to see the gate between Austria and Hungary being slowly shut. 

“What…?” He whispered, because if the gate was being shut, that meant that the Picnic was being called off. Surely that couldn’t be it, especially now that there was less than an hour left until the event was scheduled to start! Ludwig faintly registered Roderich trying to maneuver himself to look at whatever had been important enough to draw most of the attention in the area. The younger numbly rotated the wheelchair the best he could at Roderich’s behest, and felt more than saw as the elder stilled with realisation. 

“Get me over there.” The Austrian commanded, his tone a wee bit too hard and hiding vestiges of panic. Ludwig mutely nodded and began the task, unable to tear his eyes away from the doorway to Gilbert, which was slowly swinging closed right in front of him. The chair was wheeled towards the official who had probably ordered the shutting of the gate, and Roderich brought the man’s attention to the two. The general looked them over critically, before waving a guard off and turning his attention fully to them.

“Why is the gate shutting?” Roderich asked, his German blunt to the point of near-rudeness. Ludwig reflected absently that the query would usually be shrouded in polite ornaments, honeyed words that were meant to get the answer without ever truly asking the question. The uncharacteristic straightforwardness- which meant that the situation was bad enough to where Roderich had broken decorum to demand answers- startled whatever part of Ludwig’s mind wasn’t already reeling from the thought of not seeing Gilbert after today. 

“My deepest regrets, sir, but we seem to have encountered an-”

“Spare me the embellishments.” The aristocrat cut in as he rifled in his pockets, drawing a slightly annoyed expression from the official. Ludwig stayed silent, knowing that his clumsy people skills would probably only put them farther from their goal. 

“Pardon?” The general asked, as Roderich found what it was he was looking for. 

“Johann Schmidt, Government of Austria.” Roderich said, the fake name he’d chosen for this half-century rolling easily off his tongue. The general took a minute to examine the badge, before looking back to Roderich. He gave a quick salute because of the military identification on the badge, before speaking.

“My apologies, Herr Schmidt. We have received orders from Vienna to close the border. Budapest has fallen.”

The words echoed in Ludwig’s head as Roderich kept conversing with the general. The Austrian was probably trying to find a way to keep the gates open, but any outside sounds were background noise, muffled by the unregistering fog in Ludwig’s head.

Budapest has fallen. 

Budapest has fallen.

Budapest has fallen. 

The world was crashing down all around him, the air unbreathable and filled with the dust of shattered hope. He’d waited, and anticipated, and planned for nearly a decade, ever since Roderich had rung him with the news, and now it was being ended. He was going to get to see Gilbert again, after so many long years seperated by the wall, but he could feel his window of opportunity swinging closed with the gate. 

No, please. Please, don’t do this to me.

Ludwig felt a helpless feeling rising up uncontrollably inside him, threatening to spill out into the outer world in the form of tears and screams, and underneath, buried, a rage so fierce, whispering things like they can’t stop you if they tried. Show them what a nation can do!

Everything spiraled around him as he fought to keep his composure, feeling his breaths becoming noticeably shorter as the moments passed. He knew what happened behind that wall, and the thought of Gilbert and Erzsébet having to stay longer, especially with the new threat of Fortesia, when they had been so close-

A squeeze on his hand brought him back to the present, and Ludwig looked down to meet Roderich’s violet gaze. He distantly recognised that he was holding both the wheelchair handle and the Austrian’s shoulder in a tight-fisted grip, one that was sure to leave bruises on Roderich’s skin. Taking a breath and forcing himself to relax, Ludwig flexed his fingers a few times to work out the tension in them, before breathing deeply again to even out the rhythm of his breaths.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this!

“Come, Lutz. Let us go back home.” Roderich finally said, the umbrella lowering slightly and allowing the rain to patter down on both of their heads. Ludwig turned the wheelchair without a word, solemnly making his way back to their parked automobile. 

Later that night, both nations would silently comfort eachother while stubbornly ignoring the tears that dripped down both cheeks. Their grief would hang like a cloud, colouring everything in a dreary aura of loss. There would be no music ringing from that house tonight- instead, an all-pervading gloom stained the night sky black.

In Sopron, just on the other side of the border, a man would look longingly into Austria, perched at the side of an unconscious woman. He would change the towel on her head, even as he felt invading soldiers advance into East Germany. 

21 August, 1989

Lyon, France

10:46

Monday

“Listen to me, please!” Arthur said hotly, slamming his hands on the table as he rose from the chair. “Fortesia is a threat that will overwhelm all of us if we do not take action! We need to do something, now!”

His last words rang around the room, bouncing and echoing and causing some of the present to wince because of the volume. The Englishman looked around the room, searching for someone else with that fire, that conviction, that determination that they needed. These days, everyone just looked tired more than anything else, and Arthur found himself wishing again that one of his brothers- or all of his brothers had come with him, because surely they would have been able to inspire something in everyone. 

Regardless, most nations present avoided his eyes, glancing downwards or sideways. The ones that did meet his eyes conveyed their thoughts with their gaze, and he felt himself falling into despair. 

“Seriously, no one? España? France?” Arthur tried again, more desperately this time. Silence once again greeted his words, until said frenchman sighed and uncrossed his arms, standing up. 

“There’s nothing much that we can do, Angleterre- our governments do not really think that this- euh, Fortesia I think- is a threat.” Arthur glared at the dismissal, his heated gaze met and matched by Francis. The elder chose not to rise to the silent challenge the Englishman posed, resulting in a tension-filled stare-off while the rest of the attendants- the Vargas and Fernandez-Carreido brothers, along with Ludwig and Basch- looked on silently. 

“You’re not even going to try?” Arthur snapped, frustration prevalent in his tone. “Don’t you see how serious this is?! We just came out of half a century of strife, and-”

“Exactly!” Francis spat, interrupting whatever reasoning it was Arthur was about to use. His expression was dark as he faced the other, yet Arthur did not back down. “We just finished with two world wars! We are all still rebuilding, Angleterre! We are not like you, we cannot keep throwing our people into violence because we have no support system like your -what is it?- Commonwealth of Nations!” 

“Sim, amigo. Besides, if they are spreading democracy, they will not attack other democratic countries, não?” João Carlos broke in uncomfortably, trying to diffuse the obvious tension between the two Europeans. Arthur turned to look at him as Francis sat back down, and the rest of the room relaxed slightly due to the successful attempt at easing the room’s environment. 

“I do believe they are conquering indiscriminately. Canada was a democratic country, as well- and so are Australia and Japan, who are now fighting against Fortesia. Hence why-” A half-glare was shot at Francis, “-we must take action to free them in order to secure our own safety!”

“Did you not listen to a single word I said?!” Francis accused, rising once again to argue with Arthur. He received a pointed stare but was otherwise ignored, and the expression on his face soured further. “We cannot afford to enter conflict with the only world power right now! We will get decimated, and we cannot all safely retreat if we do engage, because we are not all isolated away on small little islands like you!”

Arthur’s expression tightened, and he surveyed the room with a sudden, terrifying calm. Francis had hit a bit of a point of tension, and everyone knew it. 

“And all of you feel this way?”

Silence reigned in the room, with no nation daring to breathe a word. The tension was palpable as Arthur looked around, searching for support once again (no one met his eyes this time, and that sent a sting straight to his chest). Finally, he released his grip on the table and stood, adjusting his suit jacket with stiff movements. 

“All right, then. Have it your way.”

Arthur walked out of the room. 

The Englishman's hands shook as he stormed down the hall, clenched into fists at his side. Tears pricked the edges of his eyes, and he wiped them away with a furious motion. That meeting had gone what was probably the worst possible way- save Alfred bursting in through the doors - and Arthur certainly felt like crying. 

Even Antonio hadn’t met his eyes, and the band around his finger burned at the thought. It couldn’t be said that they always agreed, but the Spaniard was always there with his love (enough love to tell Arthur straight when he was being an idiot) and today, the brunet had just looked away, without saying a word-

Oh, belt up! Imagine some hapless politician walking down the hall and come upon you sobbing your bloody eyes out! Think of what a nightmare that would be for the country’s image!

He stepped out of the lift onto the ground floor, stopping at the front desk and waiting for a receptionist. A bright young lady popped above the desk after a minute, giving him her attention. 

“Hello! May I help you?”

“Hello.” He started in French, trying to sound calm and polite, “May I get directions to the common use phones?”

“Of course! They are right down that hallway. Have a great day!” She replied cheerfully, before turning back to her work. Arthur strode down the passageway that she had gestured towards, and soon came upon a row of telephones around the corner. Arthur sighed, running through what he was going to report in his head, before inserting a franc and dialing. 

11:03

Francis sighed, not raising his head from where it was resting on the meeting table. Mostly everyone had left by this point - the only people left were Lovino and Antonio, the former stoutly ignoring the frenchman’s presence and the latter shooting concerned glances at him every other moment. 

Francis knew he had overreacted a bit during the conference, but tensions were just running so high and there was a mild flavour of panic in the air, and he was so tired of everything, couldn’t they just get a break? The blond never thought he would actually prefer the forty or so years after Napoleon’s fall, but alteast at that point Vienna had brought peace to Europe. 

“Francisco, are you leaving with us?” Antonio timidly asked after a minute, packing up the last of his papers and moving to stand by the door with Lovino.

“Non, ami.” Francis replied desolately. He turned to face away from the two, if only so he didn’t have to see the worried expression on the Spaniard’s face. He heard Lovino telling Antonio to just leave him to his moping, but Francis knew better than to assume that the younger would just listen for once and leave him to sulk. 

“Come on, amigo! ¡Vamanos! Lovi and I are going to un restaurante francés with our brothers, and I would really like your recommendation on what to eat!” Antonio prodded at him again, his cheerful tone not wavering at the death glares he was now receiving from both an irate italian and a brooding frenchman. 

“You’ve been to France enough times to figure that out by yourself.” Francis responded, his tone dismissive. Antonio didn’t budge from his place, broadcasting the message that ‘I am not leaving without you!’

“Mio Dio!” Lovino said, and Francis could almost hear him rolling his eyes at the perceived ‘drama’ being acted out by the two nations in front of him. “Look, Francesco, if you are feeling guilty or don’t want to leave the conversation off like that, go find Artù. I know he hasn’t left because his car is still outside.” 

Francis blinked, raising his head and looking at the Italian. It was true that Arthur could have always pulled out a spell of some sort and teleportaled back to England, but he wouldn’t leave his car if that was the case. 

That...isn’t such a bad idea.

“I think I will do that, actually Lovino. Thank you.”

“Good. Great. Now, tomate,” He said, turning his attention to Antonio, “we can leave to go eat because I am really f***ing hungry, bastardo!”

Antonio grinned back at Francis as he was dragged out the doorway, yelling out the name of the restaurant they were going to and making Francis promise to meet them there. 

Francis sat in silence for a few minutes after they left, trying to figure out what to say to convince the Englishman to listen to him and not walk off. 

All of them are like that, aren’t they? Unwilling to listen when they get angry. The blond recalled fondly, thinking of his love; the eldest Kirkland. He missed Alasdair- being the hopeless romantic that he was, he wished he could be with the other all the time, but they were apparently destined to spend all eternity separated by the Channel. 

Enough of that. I still have to catch Arthur before he leaves, He firmly reprimanded himself, standing and making his way out of the room. 

He made his way to the lift, because if his suspicions were correct Arthur would want to contact his brothers or his government with news as soon as possible, and the only common use phones were on the ground floor. He nodded at the lady at the counter and walked down the hall to the area, idly whistling as he made his way to where he hoped Arthur was. He paused as the sound of a heavy Norfolk accent fell on his ears, and he rounded the corner to be faced with Arthur’s back.

“-yeah, please tell them to proceed. No one on the mainland thinks it’s enough of a threat. Yeah, it’s their decision, but the PM did tell me that if this was a failure we would continue with the border closing. “

Wait- what? Border closing?

And then Francis remembered seeing a figure in his papers this morning before the meetings- specifically, that of the imports from Great Britain and the Isle of Ireland, and thinking that it was a bit odd how low the numbers were. He had not gotten a chance to ask Arthur about it during the meeting like he’d intended. 

It had been preparation just in case the Islands had needed to close off. 

Arthur turned before Francis had a chance to make himself scarce, and his eyes flicked up to Francis’ and then back down in shame.

“I have to go. We’ll discuss with everyone once I’m back on the Isles.” Arthur said, hanging up and looking back up at the astonished frenchman.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question. Arthur winced, his eyes darting everywhere but at his counterpart.

“François-”

“Don’t François me! You’re leaving, you knew you might leave, and you didn’t bother to breathe a word of it at the meeting?!” The elder exploded in aggrieved french, and Arthur’s brow furrowed for a minute as he looked aside.

“It was a last resort, François! I didn’t think I had to mention it because there was a majority chance that it wouldn’t happen!” Arthur fidgeted, and in Francis’ eyes, it looked like he was making excuses for why he neglected bringing up the possibility of the United Kingdom and Ireland closing their borders!

“You don’t think that might have been slightly pressing to mention? I don’t know about the others, but if I had known that you were thinking of sealing yourself off from us, I would have fought a h*ll of a lot harder against my government to find a way out of it! I did not mean it literally when I said you were on an isolated island!” Francis finished, his breaths heavy. He couldn’t even start to understand Arthur’s reason for keeping this from them, because if it was something as simple as an order to stay silent by some official, Arthur would have easily told them if only so they’d know. This, however, felt like an unexpected strike to the face. 

“Stop acting like it’s my choice!” The Englishman snapped, leaning in so he was centimetres apart from Francis’ face. The two glared at eachother from the close proximity, and Francis could feel the tension crackling. A distant part of his mind reflected that this was not how he’d wanted the conversation to go, before Arthur started talking again. 

“It’s not like you could change any of your government's decisions either, because we have no real power. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have a flight back home to catch.”

Arthur strode down the hall stiffly, leaving Francis to stare at his receding back for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do with this one at first, so I just kind of started writing and decided to let it go where it would. Please tell me if it feels disjointed, I'm always looking to improve my writing!
> 
> Secondly, I regret to inform that I may take a break from the story (a short one, hopefully) after this chapter. This is mainly due to personal reasons, because I currently don't forsee being able to finish chapter five by the time I am supposed to post it. I hope you all don't mind, and enjoy the story regardless.
> 
> Thanks always to purified_water, who has read every chapter atleast six times before I post it.
> 
> Translations and Explanations-
> 
> "...Sopron, from which people would hopefully come to attend the event scheduled for later today..." - I don't think I ever mentioned it in the chapter itself, but this is referring to the Pan-European Picnic, an event that took place on 19 August, 1989 on the Austro-Hungarian Border. It was a peace demonstration, in which the Hungarian border would be opened up for a few hours and people would be allowed into Austria. Many Hungarians and East Germans used this opportunity to escape Soviet-Controlled areas, and this was a significant turning point in the Soviet domination of Eastern Europe. If there was one event that can be pinpointed as the start of the fall of the Eastern Bloc, it would be the Pan-European Picnic.
> 
> "..Austria after the Anschluss..." - The Anschluss was the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany on March 12, 1938. Austria, at this time, was divided within itself as well; half the population was grateful for the German occupation, as Austria had been going through some rough patches economically, while the other half did not support the annexation. Many of these Austrian nationalists would have escaped into Switzerland, or even over the southern border into Yugoslavia, but not everyone made it. 
> 
> "Auschwitz, Chelmno, and Dachau." - These were all names of concentration camps before and during World War Two. Dachau was in Germany and opened in 1933, Chelmno and Auschwitz were both in German-occupied Poland and opened in 1941 and 1940 respectively.
> 
> "....after so many long years separated by the wall..." - Referring to the Berlin Wall, which divided East and West Berlin from eachother. Can also refer to the iron curtain, which split Eastern Europe from Western Europe in the Cold War era, including splitting East Germany from West Germany.
> 
> "Sim, amigo...não?" - Portuguese, and the first part translates to 'yes, my friend' or something to that effect. The second part, which directly translates to 'no', is used as a tag question, similar to 'isn't that right' or 'okay' in English.
> 
> "...before inserting a franc and dialing." - France did not adopt the Euro into official use until 2002, and would have still used francs as currency at this point in time.
> 
> "...forty or so years after Napoleon’s fall, but alteast at that point Vienna had brought peace..." - The Congress of Vienna, held in 1814 and 1815 after the Napoleonic Wars, was a groundbreaking event in European history. It was the first time in Europe that national representatives met to try and come to peace rather than just relying on messages from various different capitals from each nation. This Congress brought a general peace of nearly half a century, which was rare at that time due to frequent disputes over land and colonies. The Congress also set a framework for European politics up until World War One.
> 
> "Non, ami." - In French, 'no, friend'.
> 
> "...amigo, vamanos!" - In Spanish, '...friend, let's go!"
> 
> "Mio _Dio_ , " - In Italian, 'My _God_ ,'
> 
> Also, I thought I'd take a minute here to explain the Names, because people have told me that the names I am using are confusing sometimes. 
> 
> First off, Hungary's name is a Hungarian translation of 'Elizabeth', and although I'm aware that most fanfictions have her as 'Elizaveta' or 'Elizabeta', a friend of mine who is from Hungary insisted that I change it because apparently some of these letters don't even exist in the Hungarian language. So, Erzsébet it is.
> 
> Secondly, I also have been told that 'Lutz' and 'François' are the names of the Second Players. Safe to say, they are not used in that way in this story, as these names also happen to be diminutives/translations of the characters' names, and I may use them sometimes with their correct context.
> 
> Alright, wow, this turned out to be a really long note. As per usual, comments and critiques are always appreciated, and please stay safe!
> 
> Signing off,  
> -India


End file.
